Think About Tomorrow
by Stari
Summary: Amanda POV. Continues directly from Saw II. Tame JohnAmanda.


Amanda aches from the pinpoint prick of the needles. Daniel is heavy to carry, and she thinks she can feel a piece of glass from one of the vials caught in the waistband of her pants. Her shirt is bloodied and she wants to take it off. 

She's exhausted and tired and scared. He had tried to prepare her, but there was really no way to convey how much panic a person could feel when locked in a room with half a dozen people that you know are about to die.

At the bottom of the staircase, she stops. Her lungs and her eyes burn. Daniel groans, and she worries that he'll wake up too soon. He is just a boy, but John is ill and Amanda doubts her own physical strength. She waits to make sure that he's still out before starting up the stairs. It seems to take an eternity to pull open the heavy steel door.

The cool look he gives her when she puts down Daniel is not enough. She needs something to quell the hysteria bubbling just under the surface. She thought she would feel accomplished after this. She thought the sense of purpose that John carries with him would finally fall into place. But it hasn't, and what if it doesn't at all? What if it doesn't ever? How long can she keep fooling John into thinking that she's good enough.

"Amanda." He says, in that deceptively soft voice. "Put Daniel in the back room. Drug him, but do not restrain him. Leave him water and food."

"All right." She wipes her hands on her pants and picked him back up. It doesn't take long to get things situated. The back room is barely more than a closet, but sealed tightly; a steel tomb if not for the oxygen mask that she slips onto his face.

When she is finished, she sinks to her knees in front of John. Her entire body is thrumming with tension, and she isn't sure how much longer she can go on. She feels a cool hand on the back of her neck, stroking upward through her hair. "Amanda. You've done well. I'm proud of you."

Her shoulders sag and one hand weakly squeezing into a fist. "I need to get cleaned up."

"Go, then." The hand lifts away, then briefly returns. "You're all right? Your venture into the needle pit was... unexpected."

"I'm all right." She says, surprised and somewhat mollified that he's asked. "I'm fine."

She doesn't like the bathroom. Though it's clean (she's scrubbed every inch of it herself), it still feels grimy. The floor is still cement and there is no curtain, nothing but a two inch inches raised off of the ground separating the shower from the rest of the room. Even without windows, she feels vulnerable when she's naked and wet underneath the spray of the shower.

She washes her face and hair quickly, but lingers on the tender spots where the needles pierced her. Her fingers brush and push at them until they throb and start to bleed again. She holds her arm out from underneath the spray until the blood forms a droplet and then smears it around. When she pulls her arm back to her, the blood is washed away instantly.

The towels she got for them are almost decadently soft, purchased with the intention of warding off the cold in the bathroom. It's always cold, so she wraps the towel tightly around herself and pads across to the shelf where she keeps her clothes. She puts on a t-shirt and sweatpants, hoping John doesn't intend on having her leave again. After a few second's deliberation, she takes John's hooded sweatshirt and slips it over her head. She tilts her face down and takes a deep breath, smelling him on the material.

She walks barefoot back to where John is. She's not sure exactly what it is he's sketching, but she doesn't ask. She stands, waiting for him to notice her. Her turns his head and puts down the pencil after a few seconds. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I am." She says, and finds that it is true. "It was hard. I... I didn't think I could do it. When Xavier-"

"Xavier was an idiot. He's the worst kind of individual; he spent his life intimidating others and forcing them into situations that would ruin their lives."

"Daniel killed him. He used the saw-" Amanda swallows, closing her eyes and seeing it unfold again in her mind. "He cut his throat open."

"The only tragedy in Xavier's death was that it came at the hands of an innocent. It isn't all bad, though; Daniel will take something good away from this. He will never need reminding." John nods, confident of this. "He will not take life for granted."

"And that's good." Amanda looks at John, who starts to stand. "Do you need something?"

He looks at her and smiles, reaching for her hand. "I need for you to eat, and rest. We only have a few days. You need to be ready to deal with Detective Matthews if he should fail his game. Tomorrow, you will go back to the house. There are a few things that I need done there, bu we will discuss that later."

Because he hasn't moved yet, she leans forward into him. "Okay." She says, her voice muffled by his shoulder. Her mind is beginning to calm, the adrenaline starting to fade from her system. "If you need me-"

"I know where you'll be, Amanda. Don't worry." He cups her chin and smiles down at her, then kisses her forehead.

In her little bed, she feels safer and more grounded.

Another day is finished. Another test has been completed.

In a few days, she'll get her chance to test Detective Matthews, something she's waited five years for.

In her sleep, she smiles.


End file.
